Memories with a Travelling Man
by the tardis avenger
Summary: Her name is Amelia J. Pond and she is a time traveller. Trouble is, she can't remember it. Ten/Amy AU. NOTE: this story is DORMANT. I have no idea if it will ever be continued, let alone finished.


**Chapter One**

It's difficult to explain what happened to me. Sometimes it still feels like I'm living in two realities – I'm not sure what's the dream and what's real because for a long time, they were woven together far too closely. Everything gels together and my memories become a mess. I awaken with hideous faces lingering from my nightmares, sweaty and panting, and what's scariest is never knowing if I'm really free of it. Yes, they are just dreams but I've come close to death far too many times to take things like these lightly. The only difference now is that _he's_ there to comfort me – the Doctor I mean – and I'm forever grateful to have met him. Granted, I can see he still blames himself but I won't hear of it. What matters is that we've got each other now after what seemed like a lifetime of bullshit. Although, sometimes, I admit to myself that isn't enough. That's the consequence of being a time traveller – you remember _everything_ and you shut _nothing_ out. I still feel displaced and uprooted – like I'm forever in the dark.

I've definitely changed a lot since my encounter with the Silence. I mention them because they were the most _defining_ of the creatures and monsters I've met. You can tell just from looking at my face, really, how worn I've gotten. My eyes look older. There is a slouch in my back. I'm a lot more paranoid too and am always glancing over my shoulder. Things have been a bit better lately, though – I'm standing taller every day and getting more confident with the Doctor's support, but it hurts knowing I literally have no one else left. My entire family was wiped out; so were my friends. He is all I have now.

When you live in the TARDIS, it feels like time stops completely; it just becomes relative. In the Doctor's words, it becomes a timey-wimey progression. We can't view it as a linear series of events and boy, do I know it. I've often been told countless times (by the Doctor, no less) that my life makes no sense whatsoever. He's really one to talk, the Doctor, but every time I bring that up he waves it off and scoffs at me before changing the subject to something he's more comfortable with, like explaining something to me about his time machine I will never understand. I asked him once why he chose me. I didn't grow up spectacularly; I didn't think I was anything special. However, the Doctor says my paradox of a life is what he likes about travelling with me. For a while he found me more of an enigma – a puzzle he wanted to solve. At least he was honest. His guilt over what happened to me remains to this day, no matter how much forgiveness I would offer. We both have ghosts we need to bury deep, but can't. We're the lost and confused, and we need each other all the more because we're the only ones that understand – that have seen and remain.

My name is Amelia Jessica Pond. I've had the privilege of knowing the Doctor, the last of the Time Lords. I am a time traveller, and this is my story.

* * *

><p>"Mum, have you seen my leather jacket?" Amy shouted from the top of the stairs.<p>

"I just put it in your closet two days ago, what've you gone and done with it?" Her mother sighed as she pounded her up the steps to her daughter's bedroom. "You're only going to library, dear, there's no need to _dress up_."

"I'm _not_ dressing up, Mum," Amy protested. "It's what I always wear."

"But that's a new dress you've got on. Are you really going to study or is it-?"

Amy rolled her eyes – it was just like her mother to pry. She was twenty-one, for God's sake! She didn't need to be policed! She grabbed her suede jacket on her way out the door. "Oh fine, Mum, whatever, I'll wear _this_. I'm in a hurry now and won't be home until late. Don't wait up!"

She was out the door and in her car by the time her mother had bounded down the stairs after her.

The library thing wasn't even a ruse – Amy had exams to sit in a few days and could really use the extra study time. She wondered, as she pulled out of the front lawn in her beat-up little red Mini, where all this was getting her though. She was reading English at university, but was doing it more out of interest than something she'd use vocationally. Her parents weren't really fussed about it so she wasn't exactly _forced_ to be motivated by practicality. She knew her best friend Mel had it worse; her folks had been very keen on her going to law school or business school and gave her a hard time when she defied their instruction and studied arts instead. She was a few years older than Amy, although sometimes behaved far younger.

If Amy had one thing going for her, and she hated to admit it, it was her looks. Her hair was a lovely shade of red and fell softly past her collarbone, framing her pale, round face and her eyes were a gorgeous deep green. She was naturally slim, and very tall and her real assets were her legs. Long-limbed and standing at a square five foot eleven inches tall, she seemed a cross between intimidating and gentle. A friend of hers even called her out on her resemblance to a praying mantis on occasion – and how it was strangely beautiful.

The only reason Amy took so much offence to people pointing out her appearance was that those who didn't know her generally mistook her for being dim just because she was pretty. It didn't half make her mad for she had a good head and wit – she wasn't quiet about her disdain towards her critics though. Amy always used her sharp tongue to prove the masses wrong. Her spindly, gangly features were surprisingly graceful as well, much to her relief – she didn't need to be touted stupid _and_ a klutz.

"You know what I hate too, Mels?" she'd asked her friend over drinks a few nights ago. "That people think it's weird I'm not dating anyone."

"I have to admit, even _I_ find it a bit strange," Mel had admitted.

"What?"

"Well, think about it!" Mel said as she shook her head, leaning across the booth. "How many times have guys tried to get your number and you've turned them _all_ down-?"

"Yeah, well, they're _rude_," Amy interjected. "And they need to keep their hands off the skirt, thank you very much. Just because it's short doesn't give them permission to touch."

"But all I'm saying is, would it kill you to go on a few dates?" Mel pressed on. "You could go out with Rory! Rory likes you – he's liked you ever since you were kids – it's painfully obvious! And he's a such a genuinely nice guy so I don't know why you're being daft and ignoring him."

"Rory's always been a friend, Mels, you know that!" Amy exclaimed. "You know I don't see him that way at all. I've known him far too long and know too much about him. It would never work. He's also really… clingy."

"Okay, see there's your problem, Aims! You'll never find a guy if you won't a, date a stranger or b, go out with your man friends," Mel said. "You're far too _picky_!"

"God, Mels, you make it sound as though there are only two options," Amy responded absentmindedly, fiddling with her liquor glass. "Like people in between don't exist. Look, you don't have to worry about me, okay? I'm not even actively looking for a man."

Mel sighed and shook her head. "Amy, you act as though Mr. Perfect's just going to fall out of the sky one day. You're not getting any younger! Are you being realistic?"

"Are you my mother disguised as my best friend, trying to marry me off?" Amy joked. "Look, can we just drop it? I'm not going off my rocker any time soon – Christ, I'm twenty-one. I'm a commitment phobe. Let's settle it there and get the cheque."

Really, most men didn't impress her because they all seemed so clear-cut – they seemed to _want_ to appear one-dimensional around her. They either had to be the douchebag or the pushover. Either nobody challenged her or everyone talked her down. It was infuriating. Amy had asked her mum about this once, but only received a chuckle and a shake of the head from her.

"You'll find a man soon, dear," her mother had said. "I know you don't like settling for less, but there's one out there for you."

"But it can't be _it_, right, Mum?" Amy had asked. "Do I just… stop functioning after getting married? Do I keep working the same job, go on to get my Masters… or what? How do I find something else for me when everything feels so dead-ended? I don't know if I want stable and happy or crazy but adventurous!"

Amy was aware that there had to be more to life than simply going to work everyday – she had a job at a DVD store – going to class, studying, seeing her friends and going home. Having said that, she still couldn't find a way out of the mundane – her life was as normal as anybody else's in the world.

She'd almost arrived at the library when her cell phone buzzed. 'Work' popped up on the touchscreen and Amy groaned. They did _not_ want her to come in on her day off.

No luck. "Amy, Warren couldn't come in today – he's got some family emergency. Didn't want to get into details. Anyway, we need you here _now_."

"Couldn't you find someone else?"

"No one's exactly lining up outside our doors to get a job here, and I've got to leave the shop soon as well. I'd very much like it to stay open while I'm out. Economy's going to shit, can't risk a day of closure."

"I kind of need my day off today-"

"_Amy_."

_But you own a DVD store_, Amy wanted to moan. _Nobody actually asks the shop assistant for anything!_

Still, she needed the money and even though she'd been keenly looking for a new job, it was to no avail. Her boss was right – the terrible economy was hindering everyone's attempts to stay afloat. "Fine, fine, I'll be there in ten minutes," she heaved a sigh, making her petulance known, although to her chagrin, her boss didn't so much as apologise. He just hung up on her. At least she could still get studying done while at work if he wasn't around to breathe down her neck.

_Why do I have to be so nice_, she groaned inwardly as she pulled into a carpark outside the building. _And poor. Why do I have to be poor?_

The owner of the store, Bob, didn't even bother saying hello or goodbye to her when she entered – he simply breezed past, shoving the store keys into her hand on his way out. Cursing under her breath, Amy settled herself behind the cash register, and pulled her laptop out of her bag to retrieve her study notes. As she'd expected, there was absolutely no one else in the store, and the only customers for awhile were a couple of office types – probably from the building opposite – coming in during their break at half past twelve. They spoke obnoxiously about muscle car films and were obviously not going to buy or rent anything so Amy tried to ignore them. She had to put on her earphones to prove a point, though – they were _that_ loud.

_The bastard could have shut the damn store_, she thought, teeth gritted.

Amy studied for as long as she could but found it hard to concentrate all the way through her shift. She had always had a short attention span, although it seemed to truncate further when it came to coursework. After an hour and a half of revision she decided to find something else to do, and began rifling through the carton of returned DVDs behind the register for something to watch. _Pretty Woman_… _The Shining_… _Taxi Driver_… _Dirty Dancing_?

_Eh, why not_, Amy thought, fishing the DVD from the pile, popping the disc out of its case and sticking it in her laptop's disc drive. She was in the mood for some Patrick Swayze.

The menu screen loaded up and Amy was about to press 'Play' when her cursor hovered of a ghost spot that lit up closer to 'Scene Selection' – an Easter egg.

_That's funny_, she thought. _My copy doesn't have that._

The one she had right now was a rather old copy of the DVD – definitely not the 20th anniversary edition in Amy's house. Curious, she clicked the hidden content open on the DVD, only to be greeted by a video of a bespectacled man who was _not_ Patrick Swayze.

"What the fuck is this?" Amy murmured. She wanted behind-the-scenes stuff, not… this. Whatever _this_ was.

For a moment, the man sat there, adjusting his glasses and keeping quiet. Then out of nowhere came, "Yep, that's me."

"What?" Amy said in surprise.

"Yes I do," the man said. "Yup. And this."

"What are you talking about?" Amy found herself absentmindedly replying, bringing her face closer to the computer screen to examine the odd fellow.

A long pause occurred before he replied, "Are you going to read that whole thing?"

_What _is_ this_, Amy wondered, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Yet, she was enthralled. There was _something_ about this man. He looked quite ordinary – thin face, spiked hair, rectangular glasses and sharp features – but his _eyes_. The grainy video quality – which honestly matched nothing on the rest of the DVD – made it impossible to tell what colour they were but they looked so… _old_. On such a young face, it was disconcerting and fascinating at the same time.

"I'm a time traveller," the man said to no one who'd asked. "Well, I was – I'm stuck in 1969-"

Suddenly a pretty brunette lady appeared next to him, a scowl on her face. "-_We're_ stuck. All of space and time he promised me and now I've got a job in a shop – I gotta support _him_!"

"Martha!" The man exclaimed, perturbed at her interruption.

"This is so weird," Amy mumbled.

"What's weird?"

The voice startled Amy and she jumped a bit, yanking her earphones out and hitting the spacebar hard, pausing the video. Bob was back from his errands. He was looking at her oddly. She must've looked strange, staring at her computer screen like that, transfixed.

"What're you watching? You looked pretty into it," he remarked, trying to sound nonchalant, but Amy had never truly been comfortable around him and looked at him warily. More often than not, she caught him leering while she was at work and according to her co-worker, Warren, he was inappropriate with customers on occasion.

Amy hurriedly snapped her laptop screen shut and replied an equally hasty, "Nothing," possibly sounding even more suspicious than before. But she didn't linger in the store long enough to find Bob's reaction out. She didn't want to. She would see her hours in her paycheck at the end of the week and that was that. There was no need to stay if he was going to harass her – and she was sure he would. Amy's slim figure squeezed out from behind the front counter faster than Bob could call out for her to come back.

She trotted up the street to where her car was, deep in thought. Admittedly, Amy was intrigued by this video – this man on the Easter egg. It had hardly been a few minutes of footage, surely, but she wanted to know what else he had to say. A time traveller? He must be a nutter – must be! Why else would he say things like that? And why was it on a _Dirty Dancing_ DVD? None of that made sense.

However one look at him and she could tell he was… different. It wasn't something she could really put her finger on and it frustrated her. His demeanor just didn't match his face and the way he spoke… there was utter authority but it was still kind and understanding. Old and young at the same time. On the brink of destruction with utmost urgency, but calm and collected. Far too many paradoxes. Amy didn't like not knowing things. By nature, she'd freely own up to being a nosy bastard. When something got hold of her, she very rarely let it slip through her fingers that easily and this… time travelling man _gripped_ at her senses. Tightly.

Amy sat in her car and quickly flipped open her laptop to finish the video. Her fingers hovered hesitantly over the spacebar key, suddenly nervous and unsure. An unexpected rapping on her car window jolted her to her senses, however, and Amy's head whipped around and she found herself staring at Mel.

"Hey, girl, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the library or something?" Mel worked a couple of buildings over, doing travel guides and flight bookings, and she and Amy normally met up during their lunch hours and for drinks on Friday nights. But it was three o'clock in the afternoon. She shouldn't be out.

"I- uh, Bob asked me to come in – Warren's got some personal business to attend to so he called in leave," Amy said, her voice a little crackly from disuse over the past few hours. "What are _you_ doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

She hadn't really noticed it before, but it was evident to her now that Mel had been crying. Her eyes were still a little bloodshot, and the mere mention of 'working' drowned them in a fresh wave of tears.

"Mel, what's wrong?" Amy asked, overcome with alarm. She got out of the car quickly and grasped Mel's hands in hers, initiating a soothing ritual they utilized when either of them became too stressed. It was something they'd developed as children if something scared or worried them. Amy's thumbs pressed against the tops of Mel's hands and she rubbed them in circular motions. It didn't stop the crying, though, and soon enough Mel had burst into tears good and proper.

"I-I, I've been laid off," she said, trying to keep it together. She was taking deep gasps of breath in an attempt to calm herself down. There was hardly anyone else on the street but Amy had a feeling Mel simply didn't want to seem pitiful. It was just the way she was – Mel hardly ever cried around Amy or Rory or any of their other close friends. She had a complex of appearing to be the rock of relationships at all times – she was not emotionless but showing too much of it was far too weak.

"Oh, hun, I'm so sorry," Amy sighed, pulling her best friend into a warm hug.

"God, I don't know why I'm still so upset," Mel reasoned, her voice muffled by Amy's hair. "That was like three hours ago-"

"Mels, you're allowed to just shut up and cry you know," Amy said, smiling slightly at her friend's chuckle. "You've worked this job two years."

"I know, I know," Mel sighed, pulling away from Amy. "But I don't like holding onto things. I'm so happy I bumped into you anyway. I was going to call you and ask if you could just… come with me for drinks or something so I can take my mind off it."

"What, right now? At three o'clock in the bloody afternoon?" Amy laughed and poked Mel in the ribs. "Ah, why not?"

* * *

><p>"I know I didn't ask you if you had work tomorrow, but thanks for coming with me," Mel slurred as she stumbled out of the bar a few hours later slumped over Amy's shoulder.<p>

"It's a good thing I didn't drink, then!" Amy laughed.

"Oh, you should've!"

"_Someone_ has got to be the designated driver, Mels!" Amy wasn't one for the rules all the time, but when it came to her best friends, she still had a bit of a protective streak.

"Oh, oh, _oh_! I have an idea," Mel exclaimed suddenly, trying to stand on her own as they approached Amy's car.

"It's a drunk idea, so we're probably going to be hauled away by the cops. Well, _you_ are," Amy smirked, leaning against the bonnet of her car and watching her friend spin in circles in her drunken fever.

"Ugh, we won't get caught, I was just going to suggest we go by that old house we used to hang out in!"

"Okay, first of all, yes, we will get caught and taken to a jail cell because that, my friend, is trespassing. And secondly, you're referring to Wester Drumlins. That house is dangerous as hell, Mels!" Amy exclaimed, shaking her head amusedly. "It was falling apart when we were children, imagine that state it's in _now_!"

"You were always scared of that place," Mel teased. A ridiculous grin formed on her face and Amy knew she had ammunition to goad her with.

"Now, stop it, Mels, I- I wasn't scared of it!" Amy scoffed.

"You were, and you still _are_!" Mel cried, stumbling to the car and cornering Amy.

"No, no, _no_ I was not scared and I sure as hell am not right now!" Amy huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "It's just-"

"Then prove it," Mel challenged, a glint of mischief in her eye. "Let's go."

Amy narrowed her eyes at the proposition, never one to back down. "Fine. Let's do it, then."

She definitely had qualms about the house, even though it was tough getting her to admit it. Growing up, Wester Drumlins had always given her the creeps. It was Mel's idea to go in the first time, after she had gotten into a big fight one day at primary school, was sent to the head teacher's office and felt particularly upset about what he had to say to her. That was the start of something. It was like Mel's haven now – whenever she felt down and out Wester Drumlins was where she headed. Amy figured Mel sometimes went there on her own these days – she herself hadn't been back for at least three years.

It wasn't the peeling wallpaper, breaking floorboards or the mouldy furniture that bothered Amy the most – although it started out that way – it was those freaky statues in the garden. They seemed to appear one afternoon a few years ago – the girls had snuck in to an empty yard but while they were leaving, there was a stone effigy of an angel outside, hands pressed over its face as though it was crying. Amy had only once voiced her wonderment at the strange, unsettling figure, but Mel had ignored her then and Rory had claimed to not have noticed it. However, the image lingered in Amy's mind for she remembered a message on the wall inside the house – one her friends and her used to mock countless times before the appearance of the statue. 'Beware the Weeping Angel Sally Sparrow – Love From The Doctor (1969)' it said.

Sally was the name of the girl who had died in Wester Drumlins about a year before the statue had turned up, but nobody really knew anything about her and circumstances around her death were murky at best. People were even wondering if she had truly died or had simply run away, but the fact remained that Sally disappeared in the house in 2007, but the message addressed to her was written almost forty years prior. It was spine-chillingly weird, but that fact certainly did not deter Mel and Amy – and sometimes Rory, if he could be dragged away from Maths tutoring – from exploring.

Since then, a couple more angels could be seen through the windows, and once, when Amy had wandered to the upstairs landing by herself, she had come across two in one of the bedrooms, hands over their eyes and heads bent just like the one in the garden. They weren't all exactly the same – they each appeared to hold different poses. All Amy knew was that she had wanted to leave as quickly as possible after that encounter. It was the last she'd stepped foot in Wester Drumlins.

Driving up as close to the large, rusted front gates as possible, Amy turned the engines off, and watched distantly as Mel scaled the gates to the house a little clumsily. One again, she was taking up the role of caretaker for her friend – Amy knew she had to go in sooner or later even if dread was swelling up inside her. Mel was so drunk she might pass out in the house and it wasn't wise to just leave her there. Heaving a sigh that hardly expelled any of her fear, Amy grabbed a flashlight from the compartment by the passenger's seat, got out of her car and followed Mel inside.

Her first instinct was to check the garden and sure enough, there it was – the angel. It had been a few years, so Amy couldn't possibly be sure, but had it moved? It seemed much closer to the house than she'd remembered – it couldn't be more than a few metres from the back door. She heard Mel clattering about in the background, her drunken singing filtering through the thin, insect-eaten walls. Amy took one last apprehensive look at the angel before-

"BOO!" Mel shouted behind Amy, making her actually yelp in fright.

"Oh my god, Mel, what the fuck?" Amy screeched and hit her friend in the arm. Hard.

"Hah! Gotcha," Mel said goofily. "You're still going on about that statue, aren't you?"

"Have you seen that there before?"

"Yeah, loads of times. Even after you left and I came here by myself, it's always been there. It's just a statue, love-"

"Mel, coming here by yourself is dangerous, you know," Amy sighed. "What if you get hurt? There's hardly any phone reception in this house; you wouldn't be able to call for help."

"It's not like I can take _you_ with me, you'd refuse to come!" Mel rolled her eyes. "And Rory would only come if you would, and no one else knows about Wester Drumlins, remember? It's _our_ secret."

"If you're trying to guilt-trip me into coming here more often, you're sorely mistaken," Amy remarked pointedly before turning and taking long slow strides towards one of the walls. The mysterious Doctor's message was still there – clear as day, apparently immune to wear and tear – behind shreds of ripped wallpaper. She studied the note, although unsure of exactly what she was looking for.

"I've got something to show you, Aims," Mel said softly after awhile. She sounded tired, probably weary from all her dancing and the drink was finally catching up.

"What is it?" She didn't turn around.

"Just… follow-"

Amy scrunched her nose up in confusion. Follow what? "Mel-" she began, looking around, but her friend was already gone. Vanished.

"Mel? Mel?" Amy called out, getting more and more frantic. She was drunk out of her wits, she couldn't have disappeared _that_ quickly.

"MEL!" Amy was practically screaming, storming through every room in the house, the beams from her flashlight waving back and forth in her frenzy. "MEL!"

The door to the basement was open and light came through. _God, this better not be another prank_, Amy thought angrily. If it was, it would take a lot before she could forgive her friend.

"Mel, what the hell is going on?" Amy called down the stairs, still rooted to the spot. That dread from earlier was rising again as she stared down the hollow shaft, stairs creeping slowly down and that eerie light… it wasn't there before. The house was so dark that any instance of a light flicking on would have been seen.

"This isn't funny, okay?"

No response.

"If I said, 'You win, I'm terribly frightened of this house and believe it's haunted,' will you come back up?"

Nothing.

_Go down there,_ a part of her kept saying. _For all you know_ _Mel could be down there, ready to play a trick on you but at least you'll know she's okay._

_Don't be so stupid,_ her rational side kicked in. _None of this makes any sense. It's not humanly possible for anyone to make it down here in two seconds without making a sound. Something isn't right. Save yourself, and get out!_

_Save myself from what, though?_ Amy thought. _No harm in having a look._

Fingers grasping the flashlight a little tighter, Amy's resolve told her to ignore reason. She had to check it out for her friend. For the admittedly small chance Mel would be down there.

Her footsteps creaked the stairs as she shakily made her way to the basement. The source of the light was a naked bulb swinging from the ceiling, even though there was no wind.

Amy gulped as she took in the scene. No Mel, but in the centre of the room were four angels. Only they weren't weeping. They faced each other in a square, arms almost locked as though they were… hugging a box of some sort. Their faces… fanged and feral, claws for hands, and snarls galour. They did not move an inch but were imposing all the same.

_What the hell is this place,_ Amy wondered, terror rising in her throat.

The naked bulb was starting to flicker, for no apparent reason. It hadn't been when she was at the top of the stairs, so why now? Amy's flashlight began acting up too, and she frantically smacked it with her other hand.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked it in frustration. "This is not the time to start fucking up!"

If she'd glanced up a second too late they would've gotten her, but as Amy spun around towards the stairs, she came face to face with a stone angel. She almost ran into it – it was mere inches from her face.

"You weren't there before," she mumbled, trembling and backing away.

It looked harmless – so close, but very much harmless. Amy inched around it, not taking her eyes off it. It remained with its hands over its face. Her mind was going a mile a minute, reeling over how it even got down the stairs without so much of a sound, how she still hadn't found Mel… and various other questions. Amy ran to the top of the stairs as quickly as she could and slammed the basement door shut, letting out a wrangled cry while doing so. She inhaled deeply several times as well – the atmosphere down there was suffocating.

Amy had a hunch although she was terrified at the prospect of it being true. Staggering through the corridors to the sitting area overlooking the patio, she quaked again. The angel in the garden was gone. Rushing through the rest of the house, her search was futile and she realised she already knew where it was. The angel in the basement, the one that _followed_ her there… it had somehow _moved_.

Amy had to get out of the house, but it didn't feel right leaving without Mel. Exactly _where_ had she gone? Amy had checked every square inch of the house but there was no one else. It was like Mel had never been there.

"Beware the Weeping Angel," Amy heard herself say. Everything seemed muffled and distant at the moment, as though it was some sort of out-of-body experience. Nearly tripping over her own feet, she scrambled back into the sitting room, ripping more wallpaper apart to properly read the message on the wall.

"Beware the Weeping Angel, Sally Sparrow," she recited. "Love From The Doctor – _1969_."

The video from that afternoon. 'I'm a time traveller. Well, I was- I'm stuck in 1969-'

"Oh God, this is crazy!" Amy exclaimed, tears filling her eyes in distress and exasperation. "It's not the same man, it's not!"

However, the words kept repeating themselves, as did the video clip; over and over in her head, the man with his piercing gaze, youthful face and words beyond his years stared at her, almost begging her to believe him. Amy pressed her fingertips to her eyes, shoulders quivering as she crouched on the floor, taking slow, laboured breaths in attempt to reach some sense of calm. She needed to shut all of this out.

"You're cracking up, Amy, that's all," she told herself. "There is no Doctor, no Weeping Angel, Mel is in the car, waiting to say, 'I told you so.' Time travel doesn't exist. _It doesn't exist._"

Her mantra hardly worked, and when she stood up a few moments later, she was still shaky. She couldn't fool herself – Mel was gone. What had happened to Sally Sparrow years ago probably just happened to her best friend… right here, when Amy was in the room with her. Mel probably didn't even see it coming. Nevertheless, part of her still raged, calling her insane and foolish to believe in something like this so quickly, but Amy found no other explanation than, "The Angel did it." It still didn't make sense to her, though. How could someone simply _disappear into thin air_?

One thing Amy knew for certain was that she couldn't tell anybody – not a soul. People would either think she was a nutcase and lock her up, or assume she'd done something to Mel and was trying to cover up a crime. That was what happened to Sally's boyfriend, Larry Nightingale, years prior. He stood trial for her 'murder' and for the period of time his face was splashed across the front pages of the local papers and tabloids, even Amy believed that. Right now, though, she wasn't so sure.

_I need to see the rest of that video_, she thought to herself as she picked up her flashlight and walked as quickly as she could out of the house. At the last second, she spun around, hurried back to the wall and snapped a picture of it using her camera phone. Evidence.

_I need to find the Doctor._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Here's the first chapter to Memories with a Travelling Man! Un-betaed, but I don't think much needs to be said other than it is very very much set in an alternate universe. I'm changing a lot of things around within the Whoniverse but am still trying to keep characterisations consistent. This is based on a video I made a few weeks ago that's on youtube - the link to my page is on my profile. Updates will come whenever they do - I work on a tight schedule, but I am hoping to finish it relatively soon. Comments and constructive feedback are always greatly appreciated - this is my first time writing DW! Thanks for reading!


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